


Business Time

by eighth_chiharu



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bondage, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 02:19:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1881432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eighth_chiharu/pseuds/eighth_chiharu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dad's a businessman in some generic office building. Bro's a tech guy hired to take care the network. Add one box of donuts and you've got a story. Warnings for smut and light bondage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alarnia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alarnia/gifts).



The damn computer wasn't working again. 

It stared at him, unresponsive, the little whirling circle that denoted that the computer was "thinking" as offensive as the flat palm his teenage son flashed him when John was too busy to speak to his father. The computer was ignoring him like a damn kid. The computer was giving him The Hand.

James Egbert refrained from doing anything as petty as cussing in frustration and kicking the desk in his cubicle, but he took satisfaction in the brief fantasy of committing both ungentlemanly acts as he picked up the phone. He pushed the small box of Yum-Yum donuts over to the side and ran a finger over the clear blotter on his desk, tracing the paper phone tree that lay beneath it. He skimmed the names as if he didn't know which department he wanted, or hadn't memorized the number of the man in question.

"Strider, Strider... Ah."

Tapping the number rapidly with his finger, he picked up the receiver and quickly dialed the extension. It was for the I.T. helper, the only one who would be manning the phones at this late hour.

"Y'ello," came the casual greeting. "S'up, Jim? Get lonely over there in Purchasing?"

"No," Egbert said shortly. "It's frozen yet again. You said you fixed it. And if you sing that song from that movie even once more, I'll make sure your requisitions never go through again."

The bars of music cut off as quickly as Egbert's access to the company intranet had done. "I wouldn't do that to you, buddy. We're pals! I only tease people I care about." Egbert opened his mouth to assert that this wasn't the best policy, but before he could do so, Strider added, "Just kiddin', Jim. Be right there."

Strider hung up, and Egbert replaced the receiver, vaguely excited. He was assured enough in his sexuality to admit that he found Ambrose Strider incredibly pleasant to look at, but he hadn't made any moves. Workplace romance was far from professional, and James was nothing if not professional. That attitude didn't keep him from indulging in a few late-night fantasies, though. Ones where Strider confessed that he'd been having the same thoughts about James, that he secretly kept photos of James on his computer, and used them to --

There was a quick knock on the frame of his cubicle, startling him.

"Sorry," Strider apologized, giving Egbert an insouciant grin. He leaned over the partition wall, its four-foot height perfect against his six-something figure. His shoulder muscles bunched beneath his company polo shirt, his eyes hidden by his ridiculous pointed sunglasses. Strider was stuck in the eighties, but he made it look good, and that was enough for James.

“Glad you could make it,” he answered, standing and pushing his rolling desk chair out of the way. “I’m a man in need of some serious assistance.”

One of Strider’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, but his grin remained fixed. “I can see that.”

Egbert felt a slow sort of heat roll over his chest, and he was glad he’d chosen to wear one of his wider ties that day. It seemed to help control his emotions. “It’s stuck.” He turned toward the computer, waving a hand at it. “It won’t respond to anything I do.”

“I know the feeling.”

The heat rushed up from his chest to his cheeks, but whether Strider noticed or not, James wasn’t sure. The taller man was already moving toward the desk, taking hold of the mouse and tapping it, wiggling it. He had to bend over quite a lot to reach the low surface, and James took another step back to make room, his gaze flitting around, only to land solidly on Strider’s denim-clad ass.

A tight ass.

In tight, tight jeans –

“Enjoy the view?”

Tearing his eyes from Strider’s behind with a jerk that screamed of guilt, James said quickly, “What?” His alarm was for naught, however; Strider was still facing the screen, but peering out over the top of the cubicle toward all the other desks.

“The view. All these rows of same-ness. Seems pretty fuckin’ borin’ to me.” He turned at last, glancing at James, grin gone. “How do you stand it?”

Imagination, James thought, but said only, “I guess I don’t notice it that much. I have other things on my mind.” Seeing Strider without his perpetual smirk was a little odd. It hinted at a seriousness that James hadn’t suspected the other man possessed. Was it possible that Strider did something other than play computer games, eat Doritos and laugh at people who couldn’t figure out why their printer wasn’t working?

“Things like what? Which ties to buy? Which pipe tobacco would sell better online?”

“Actually, yes. It’s my job, it’s what they pay me to do. What do you think about all day? Or do I even want to know the answer?”

“Dunno – wouldn’t wanna offend you. It gets pretty intense up here sometimes.” The tech tapped the side of his head.

“How intense can a game of Minecraft get?”

Strider raised an eyebrow, regarding James a moment before he turned back to the computer – but not before James saw his mouth quirk up in half a smile. “I’m gonna hafta operate, if you don’t mind. Might wanna stand back.”

“Be gentle,” James said dryly, surprising himself. He didn’t usually say much to Strider at all. He was too afraid that conversation would lead to revealing his interest as more than work-friendly. But for some reason, being here, now, late at night, with only the two of them – well, a little flirting didn’t seem too bad. It was all right to have fun now and then. Just a bit of messing around. “Watch out for the donuts.”

“I saw ‘em.” Strider got down on all fours and under the desk, his delicious ass exposed to the world at large – which, at the moment, consisted of James Egbert. James watched it again, unabashed this time, confident that Strider couldn’t see a thing. It really was the tightest, shapeliest thing.

… Perhaps he’d been working longer than he thought.

“Yum-Yum’s good, but Dunkin Donuts is the best.”

“Mm?” The computer tech’s voice was muffled, and it took James a moment to register what he’d said. Hot ass and donuts didn’t automatically go together in his brain, so it took a moment to switch subjects. “Oh. Hm. You think so? I’ve always found Yum-Yum to be firm, with a freshness that Dunkin doesn’t have. Their donuts seem so old and crunchy. I think they make them a week in advance.”

Strider snorted, exclaimed “Got it!” and backed out from under the desk, a long cable in hand. “Think it’s this fucker’s fault. Your cat-5 is bad. And you’re insulting the mainstay of my youth. You think Yum-Yum holds together better, huh? You sure about that?”

“I’d be willing to wager it, yes,” James answered confidently.

“A betting man?”

James shrugged. “When I know I can win. There’s no wiser time to indulge, is there?”

“I dunno.” Strider was standing in front of him now, the rubber-coated computer cable still in his gloved hands, his sunglasses reflecting the overhead fluorescent lights. James couldn’t read his expression at all. “I like a little risk, personally. Makes life interesting.” He held up the cable, winding it loosely around one palm. “Don’tcha think?”

The heat was moving in both directions this time: up his face and down his trousers. James cleared his throat, trying to hide his discomfiture, but it didn’t help much. He ought to back down. He ought to send Strider on his way, forget all this flirting nonsense.

His mouth had its own ideas.

“You have a point,” he found himself saying. “A life without challenges is no life at all.”

Strider’s smirk reappeared. “Exactly. Glad we’re on the same page about likin’ a little kick and spice.”

“Are we?” James said, sure he was bright red. He stood his ground, though, steady as Strider unwound the cord and held it up. “On the same page, I mean.”

“I think we are. Now turn around, Jim. I got a better use for this cat-5 than bustin’ up a computer.”

James’ heart hammered violently against his ribs. “And what would that be?” he asked, throat closing.

Strider grinned. “Taking you up on your bet.” He reached out and bodily turned James by the shoulder, making him face the open office and the entrance to the cubicle. James protested with a small gasp, but Strider’s grip was sure and warm, even through the dress shirt James was wearing, and he felt himself melting. Before he knew what was what, both hands were secured snugly behind his back, the long computer cable wound about his wrists and presumably knotted off. Strider tugged him around again, pushing him back toward the desk, stopping him before he could actually sit on it.

“Don’t wanna ruin these just yet.” He scooped up the box of donuts, put it on the office chair and wheeled it back a few feet. “Gotta test em out, after all.”

James almost couldn’t breathe. He was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. “Strider, are you sure –“

“Call me Bro,” the tech said with another quick grin. “Everyone else does.” He moved close again, only inches from James, and dropped his big hands to the black leather belt around James’ waist. With a quick flick of his fingers, he undid the buckle and pulled the tongue free, shoving James’ pants down.

“Wait, wait, we shouldn’t, not here!” Anyone might walk in. Anyone might see.

“Shouldn’t what?” Bro asked, coy. “Test these donuts out? I dunno, man.” He touched the crotch of James’ boxer briefs and snickered. “You got a pretty big bulge there for someone who doesn’t wanna do whatever he thinks we’re doin’.”

James flushed again, cheeks hot. Bro’s hands were impossibly heated, and they cupped James’ erection through the soft cotton fabric, fondling it surely. He struggled to find his ‘father’ voice, the one that usually sent John skittering for cover. “This has nothing to do with donuts and you know it.”

“Ooh, look who knows so much~.” Bro hooked fingers in the waistband of James’ underwear and tugged it down. James’ length sprang free, hard and throbbing, and Bro laughed. “Nice.” He ran a finger along the side of it and pinched the tip once.

James moaned, almost coming with that one skin-to-skin touch. Oh, God, how long had he fantasized about this? How many times had he taken himself in his hand while he was in bed or in the shower, stroked himself off thinking about Bro Strider, his broad shoulders, the delicious, masculine scent of him?

Bro took his hand back, leaving James’ cock standing on its own. “All right, hold up. Can’t have you blowin’ your wad before we even do the bet.”

“W-what?” The fog of lust was thick. James blinked, confused. “What bet? Aren’t you—I mean, don’t you want to –“

“We said we’d settle this donut thing, and that’s what we’re gonna do.” Bro gave James a little shove, tilting him back against the desk so that he was half-sitting on its pressboard surface, the wood veneer cold against his bare ass. “Now hold still. You move, you’re gonna make me mad.”

James had no idea what Bro Strider looked like angry, but he had the distinct impression that he didn’t want to find out. He kept himself motionless as Bro took the few steps to the donut box and opened the lid.

“Six left, huh? That oughta be enough for the test. You ready?”

James wasn’t sure he was, but he nodded anyway. What was Bro doing, eating donuts at a time like this? This was getting sort of ridiculous. James was starting to feel awfully stupid standing here by himself, pantsless, his shirttails brushing his hips. Maybe Strider was just making fun of him. Maybe this was all a big joke.

Something soft and firm hit his belly and he blinked, the quiet thud of the object hit the industrial carpeting shocking despite its near-silence. “… did you just throw that donut at me?”

Bro’s grin was gone. Even his smirk had vanished. In his hand was another donut, a chocolate-iced one, and his tone was commanding. “Said hold still, Egbert. I’m tryin’ to finish my test.”

James gaped. “You can’t seriously be –“

“Shut it, Jim!” Bro snapped, and chucked the next one with a flick of his wrist. It grazed the tip of James’ cock, its icing warm from being out all day, and James groaned as his dick jumped, aching at the brief contact before the donut fell.

“Shit,” he gasped. “Strider, don’t –“

Another donut hit him, rolled over the top of his cock and joined its fellows on the floor. James made another wanton noise at the brief contact, something that tried to be a protest but was actually just begging for more.

“This is stupid. It’s gone beyond stupid. We should –“

Another donut flew from Bro’s skilled hands, and this one hit James’ cock and slid down it, a ring toss at a carnival game, and Bro grinned. “Looks like I win the prize. But you might win the bet.”

James couldn’t find anything to say. He watched as Bro came closer, confused and aroused and burning for another touch.

“But we gotta do the most important part.” Bro knelt before James and ran a hand up the man’s bare inner thigh, thumb brushing up against James’ testicles. James sagged, moaning under his breath, and Bro added, his voice like warm velvet, “Gotta taste it.”

He leaned in and placed his mouth along the side of James’ dick, sucking lightly, tracing his way down the length until he reached the donut. James didn’t know whether to laugh or beg for more, but his eyes were glued to Bro. He held his breath as Bro nibbled at the pastry, then took a bite out of it, teeth grazing lightly along James’ length. The donut gave way and dropped to the floor, and Bro swallowed the mouthful, licking his lips after. “Not bad.”

James groaned something unintelligible.

Bro smirked. “You’re right. Not very fair, was it. Forgot the icing.” He moved in again and took James’ cock into his mouth, sliding over the length until he reached the root. James gasped audibly, knees weak, and Bro sucked hard, tongue pressing up against the underside of James’ dick. He worked James quickly, one hand smoothing over James’ ass, groping it, the other cupping his balls, brushing his perineum. James made noises, groaning louder as Bro moved his hot, wet mouth over James, as tight as anything James could remember. The need for satisfaction grew in him, pooled in his lower regions as a hot, driving desire, and with a sudden jerk he came, voice choked off as the bliss of release slammed into him.

He sagged against the desk, panting as he finished, and Bro drew back after a moment, swallowing again. His hands were on James’ thighs as if he suspected the man might fall over and join the pastries on the carpet. “Not bad,” he said casually. “Guess Yum-Yum wins for taste. I owe you.”

“No,” James said dazedly, pink-cheeked and breathless, “I think I owe you.” And then, slyly, “I’ll pick up another dozen in the morning.”


End file.
